


No, Steven!

by Indehed



Series: Snuggle 'verse [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indehed/pseuds/Indehed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met when they were four, and even back then, Danny developed a catchphrase of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No, Steven!

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Nie, Steven!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135688) by [MobyDick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MobyDick/pseuds/MobyDick)



> damnit, people! fluff isn't supposed to happen when I'm working on other things. this is unnecessary distraction. but they're so cuuuuuute when they're little...  
> Thanks to Paulette for doing such a fast turnaround on the beta. I'll start taking the availability for granted if she keeps it up!

Growing up together meant that they'd developed their own ways. There were inside jokes, certain looks that spoke volumes, and turns of phrases that others could associate with them. 

When Steve annoyed him, one such phrase was always issuing from Danny's mouth - and had done so like a constant companion to their playing together since the age of four. 

If Steve monopolized the toy trucks, hit sand from the sand box onto Danny, or tried to put pen on his face, the bossier one (as Danny was becoming known) would admonish him with a 'No, Steven!' and the adventurous one (that would be Steve) would guiltily wring his hands and stop what he was doing and play nice. 

Danny was like a mini-parent at times. Sure, he could have his own unruly moments, could throw a tantrum with the best of them, but when it came to Steve, he did his best to take care of him like he would a brother. If that meant keeping him out of trouble, then so be it. Usually a stern look and his choice phrase was enough. 

When Danny was eight, his father had sent him a toy kit for being a policeman. He'd been telling his father for over a year how much he wanted to join the police when he was older and this was his father's way of telling him he heard him and supported him, even if he was still just a little boy. Once Danny had his hands on his new plastic handcuffs, there was no stopping him. He'd used them on Matty a lot, but Steve was the one who he seemed to think needed them more. 

After Steve annoyed him at lunchtime by trying to flick his ear one too many times, Danny had eventually growled out a 'No, Steven!' and dragged him over to the jungle gym and cuffed him to it. He'd walked away and gone to play with Meka instead, leaving Steve alone to pout. He went back though. He couldn't leave Steve like that. Even in his eight year old head, it was just Steve getting a time out and once he'd cooled down, Danny would release him. 

Steve perked up on Danny's return, fully aware of the game they were playing, and once released, chased after Danny and tackled him to the ground in a fierce hug, thankful for not being abandoned. From then on, whenever Danny used the cuffs on Steve, the same thing always happened after, and Danny never seemed to mind at all when he had an armful of Steve on top of him, stuck to him like the octopus he could be. 

When they were twelve, Steve was getting much better at surfing, though Danny refused to take part in the activity. He wasn't a fan of the beach and he didn't see the point in riding a wave for ten seconds then having to paddle all the way back out and wait for another ten second thrill. To be fair, Steve was right, and he probably would enjoy it if he gave it a chance. But he hated the beach. He hated sand, he hated when he didn't put on enough sunscreen and got burned bits and he hated the feel of the rubber thong of flip flops between his toes. 

But he went with Steven to the beach on Saturday mornings anyway when, ostensibly, Doris McGarrett babysat him while his mom was at work. He liked to watch Steve get better, he liked to support him, but then the same thing always happened and Steve would come running up the sand, stand over Danny and drip on him. If that wasn't enough, he'd grab his hand and drag him down to the water. It didn't matter how many times he yelled 'No, Steven!' the, admittedly stronger boy, would be able to get him to the shallows and dump him in. 

It never really took long for Danny to smile, start splashing, and then join in with a game of Frisbee. But he still hated the beach. 

When they were fourteen, they spent a lot of time at the arcade on Sundays, crowded around a Ms Pac-Man game. Steve always made sure they had plenty of quarters and played a mean game, but Danny was better. 

But there was that one Sunday where he was doing so well. He'd rocked through the pear level without losing all his lives and was in the beginnings of banana when Steve knocked into the table and he was distracted long enough for the orange ghost to kill him. His game was over. 

"No, Steven!" he had simultaneously groaned and yelled in a rage. 

"Sorry, man, it wasn't me, the game must have crashed or something."

"The game didn't crash, you did, you animal!" Danny tried to keep his voice down, but the strain was telling. "You made me lose! I hate you so much!"

"Now, Danny, come on, calm down. I'll buy you some malasadas, okay? You can try and kick my ass again next week. We were almost out of quarters anyway," Steve had placated. 

He had gingerly put his arm around Danny's shoulders and steered him out of the arcade into the sunlight. Danny had never forgiven him for that one, the apology had never been accepted, the incident had merely been swept under the rug. 

When they were sixteen, Steve had started on his healthy eating thing. He'd been thinking about his plans for after high school was over and, knowing he wanted into the Navy, had begun to do everything he could to get in great shape. He was looking good for it. He was a quarterback after all and had the strength to prove it. 

He'd taken it upon himself to inflict his healthiness on Danny, substituting his food out from his lunch tray, even roping Danny's mom and aunt into it on the days he brown-bagged it. Danny would pull his lunch out of the bags, or stare forlornly at his tray that Steve had hijacked and just let out a frustrated 'No, Steven….' like a petulant five year old. 

One weekend, Steve came over to pick up Danny to go to the beach and had bounded up the stairs with too much energy for nine o'clock in the morning and stormed into Danny's room, jumping on his bed, where Danny was curled up in his comforter still.

"Come on, Danny, time to get up!" Steve had way too much enthusiasm. 

"No, Steven," Danny had spoken, wearily. "Sick. Not today."

"What's wrong?" Steve's voice immediately changed to concern. 

"Don't know. Stomach hurts and my head isn't happy and I feel hot and cold at the same time. It sucks."

Steve didn't explore under the coverings to get to Danny, but he did try and peer at him. In the end he settled for rubbing at whatever lump of Danny there was from on top of the covers. 

"If you listened to me and ate better, this might not have happened."

"Shut up," Danny replied, gesturing to his head. 

Steve simply sighed, pulled himself up onto the bed and lay beside him. Not long after, a wave of heat had taken over Danny's body again and he'd kicked the covers away and flopped onto his belly, trying to push his head into his pillow for relief. When that didn't work, hands reached for him that weren't his own and gently pulled at him, bringing his head onto Steve's lap and then the other boy carded one hand through Danny's hair while the other massaged lightly at his temple. He did his best to soothe Danny, quietly asking him where it hurt. 

It had felt like bliss as Steve's hands distracted from the pain and did their best to rub it away. That morning he curled into Steve's warmth when he felt cold, and sprawled on top of him when he felt hot; the comforter abandoned for Steve's pliant body instead. 

The last time he'd said those words was the morning after their last sleepover, before Steve was due to leave for the airport and fly away from Danny. He remembered saying "No, Steven, don't go."

But Steve had no choice in the matter. He'd hugged Danny close and told him this time he couldn't do as Danny asked. 

Years later, and with both of them back on the Island (older, wiser, separate life experiences behind them), it was during their first case after dealing with Steve's dad's death and Victor Hesse when Steve dangled a suspect from a roof. Immediately Danny had been in there and the first words out of his mouth were 'No, Steven!' before he'd launched into a rant about proper police procedure and came perilously close to reaching for his handcuffs until realizing that these were real and metal, and not the plastic ones he'd held so dear for years. 

After, when they were making their way back down the stairs of the building, with Steve's longer legs carrying him down faster, Steve had sported a stupid grin on his face while waiting for Danny to catch up. Danny kept scowling at him all the way to the car. 

"What is with the face? I'm annoyed at you, Steve, stop smiling!"

"I can't help it, Danny," Steve said. "I'm just… it's like old times. You tell me not to do something when you think I've gone too far and then I stop."

"You didn't stop; you kept holding him over that roof."

"No, I didn't. You said 'no, Steven'… I paused, you ranted, and then I brought him back up again."

"You're insane. You've always been insane, you know that? You need a keeper."

Steve smirked again as he turned smiling eyes on Danny. "That's always been your job."

Danny shook his head, but looking back, he realized it had been.


End file.
